Virginia Woolf
This is my aunt, Rosebud Yellow Robe, photographed by Ken Cavanagh. Growing up, Rosebud was always a little mythic and mysterious, the wife of my uncle, Alfred Frantz. My last sight of her was one day in New York when I walked into the Museum of Natural History and there was Rosebud. Tall and stately, she was surrounded by about a hundred rapt children listening to her stories about her native Lakota people. I introduced myself – I think that I had not seen her for nearly twenty years.
Rosebud had a dignity and fullness of purpose that I want to fully embody and express in my own life. The ability to “alter one’s aspect to the sun,” to move and be moved while holding steady the thread of love and meaning feels more than essential. None of us knows how many more days we have to get it right. Best start today, this moment.
Here is another beautiful inspiration.
